


More Than Words

by threerainydays



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, F/M, Humor, Now kiss, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, bernadetta's insecurities, minor angst but it gets better, no beta we die like Glenn, so fluffy we could stuff a pillow, you love to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerainydays/pseuds/threerainydays
Summary: He laughs, and she pouts because he’s making fun of her again.“You’re cute.”Bernadetta is nothing like the heroines in the books she reads (and sometimes writes), but Sylvain is handsome and charming enough to make her feel like one.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for the self-indulgent fluff, friends! After many moons this puppy is finally ready to see the light of day.

Bernadetta has never had a boy in her room before. It’s even more unusual that the boy in question is Sylvain. Flirtatious, skirt-chasing, good-looking Sylvain.

He’s the type her father would never let her even think of looking at, and he’d definitely have more than a few punishments for her if he ever found out.

Fortunately, her father will never find out and she’ll carry the guilt to her grave in lieu of an actual punishment. Safe.

Bernadetta turns her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of him. Sylvain is settled on the floor, back against her bed with one leg propped up and her latest work resting on his knee. He looks completely focused on the loose-leaf bound stack in his hand, his eyes darting across the page as if he can’t take in the words fast enough.

She never thought someone like him would take an interest in her writing, even if it was by accident. Sylvain is nothing less than perfectly friendly, wholly enthusiastic with a smile that could outshine the sun every time she presents him with her latest update.

It’s new to her, having someone pay her so much attention. It’s absolutely terrifying most times, but she also kind of likes it. The corners of her mouth lift slightly as he turns another page, a look of concentration on his face.

He glances up and their eyes meet. She squeaks at being caught, and quickly turns away.

“Stupid,” she mutters to herself, blushing to the roots of her hair. “Amateur mistake Bernie, to be caught looking.”

Sylvain has to hold back a chuckle. “You know I can hear you, right?”

“Eep!” She didn’t think it was possible to feel more embarrassed.

“It’s okay, you can look as long as you like,” he says. She looks up again just in time to catch him wink. “I don’t mind.”

Bernadetta nearly faints in her chair.

She can barely focus after that. The clock ticks idly as Sylvain flips through page after page and suddenly it’s been an hour and she hasn’t written anything, save for the fantasies in her mind.

He stands up to stretch, looking impossibly attractive while doing so and she’s _staring_ but she can’t stop.

She’d have to be blind not to notice. Sylvain is effortlessly appealing with his jacket carelessly open, hair just a tad ruffled, and his _face,_ oh Goddess but he was easy on the eyes.

She files these details away, because what does it matter if he’s nice to look at when he’d never look at her. Not like that.

Not Bernie, with her rat’s nest hair and knees turned inward because she just wants to shrink, wants to hide, could live forever without anyone ever noticing. How could she possibly stand to have him look at her when she doesn’t want anyone to look. No one is supposed to look at her, that’s why –

“Here.”

She jumps, so lost in thought she hadn’t noticed him handing back her manuscript.

“I made a few notes, nothing major. Would’ve told you directly but you seemed a bit… distracted.”

“Ah,” she says faintly, her voice sounding far away even to her own ears. “Thanks, I’ll take a look.”

If he notices her awkwardness, he politely doesn’t comment. She manages to keep it together as he excuses himself, only sinking against the door after he’s gone.

Maybe she should reconsider throwing her pages in the fire after all.

* * *

Bernadetta nearly does, but chickens out at the last second. Saying it was one thing, but following through was something else entirely. She’d spent the better part of the weekend pushing through a particularly difficult plot point and it would be a shame to waste all her hard work.

And so she shuffles back to the courtyard, new chapter freshly written and ready for Sylvain.

He’s already there as per usual, and perks up when he notices her.

“Bernadetta! Just the girl I was waiting for,” he says with a grin.

“Don’t blush, Bernie,” she mutters. “Okay. You can do this. Yeah.”

She hands him the papers and settles herself on the grass. Perfect. All according to plan.

Before she can blink, Sylvain has moved to sit next to her. All NOT according to plan.

Their shoulders are touching. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on her but he’s right there and she can feel him and his hair is almost close enough to touch her cheek and oh Goddess there you go again Bernie –

“So I was thinking again about last week’s chapter and I had a thought,” he says.

“Uh-huh,” she says, barely comprehending. He’s speaking words, probably helpful, but all she can focus on is how nice he smells.

It’s a citrus-y scent, something with lemon in it. She wonders hazily if he uses anything to make his hair so soft and if he’d let her run her fingers through it.

Bernadetta barely manages to pull herself out of runaway daydreams when Sylvain says, “Well, that’s all I’ve got. I’ll read the next set and get back to you next week.”

He moves to put away the papers in his bag. She nearly sighs in relief, glad to have his literal weight lifted from her shoulder.

Her relief is short lived when he turns to her and says, “It’s been a long day, mind if I rest for a bit?”

“What?”

Before she can fully process that, he’s scooting forward and laying his head in her lap. She squeaks, hands flying up to avoid touching him. The sky suddenly becomes incredibly interesting.

Sylvain blinks up at her in a manner so casual it has to be practiced. “Is this alright?”

“Um.”

He laughs, and she pouts because he’s making fun of her again.

“You’re cute.”

Bernadetta almost faints again. “Y-you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says easily because it’s Sylvain and that’s what he does.

But she wants to believe him, and so she hesitantly reaches out to brush his hair away from his face.

Something in his expression shifts for a moment. She continues to stroke his hair. It really is as soft as it looks.

He closes his eyes and practically sighs into her touch. She gulps.

“This isn’t what you’re here for,” she says, surprising herself by how quiet her voice comes out.

“Maybe not,” he responds, eyes still closed. “But it feels good, right?”

It would be so easy. He’s right there, and she could find out. Right here, right now. She could test everything and know for sure if this is what she thinks it is. What the stories say…

She pulls back at the last second. He opens his eyes, as if he knows. What is she doing?

“I… I should go.”

He gets up without a word and she stands up too, hurriedly brushing off her skirts. She gathers up her things and turns to leave.

His hand on hers is what stops her. “Bernadetta?”

She wants him to keep talking to her, wants to touch his hair and get lost in his eyes and no, no, no she can’t –

“I really have to go,” she says instead.

“I meant what I said.”

Her legs refuse to work. It’s a trick, it’s a lie, it can’t be real because he can’t possibly mean what he thinks he does, not about her.

An eternity passes before he removes his hand.

The ground is the new interesting thing of the moment, and she observes it until Sylvain’s footsteps fade into the afternoon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for supporting this story, I love hearing what y'all think. Get ready for more cuteness!

She’s determined not to make things weird. She’s proven so far that it’s not possible to die of shame, although that doesn’t mean she’s stopped trying.

Sylvain gives no indication that anything out of the ordinary happened, and she tries to follow suit. She acts completely normal, that is, if normal includes avoiding any and all eye contact with him during lessons, stepping on Linhardt’s foot in her haste to avoid standing near him for lance training, and laughing nervously when the professor mentions pairing them for stable duty next month.

Bernadetta feels herself slipping further into the debauchery her father warned her about, and does what any normal person would do. She locks herself in her room for the next week and throws herself into writing. If the love interest of her latest short story shares more than a few similarities with Sylvain, it’s a coincidence.

The professor eventually coaxes her out with promises of cake and her favorite two-fish sauté in the dining hall. Bernadetta tries to resist, but after a week of living off sweet buns a real meal sounds especially appetizing.

She’s already gotten her serving by the time she realizes it’s a trap.

Sylvain raises a hand in greeting from his spot at the end of the table, a lopsided grin on his face. “Hi.”

She considers running for it, but the professor steers her toward the chair next to him before she can bolt. “Um, hi.”

It’s riveting conversation they’re starting out with, but the professor swiftly steps in and carries the meal with talk of their upcoming certification exams. Sylvain is preparing for the paladin test, and Bernadetta’s mind wanders to how he really fits the part of a noble on horseback. She makes a note to include that in her latest not-about-Sylvain story.

“You’ve improved a lot recently, Bernadetta,” the professor says.

She wipes her mouth hastily. “You really think so?”

“Your accuracy has gotten so much better,” she insists. “I was thinking we could have you work on horse riding now, to give you more mobility.”

“I don’t mind horses,” she says. “I guess I could give it a try.”

“Which is why I’d like Sylvain to tutor you for a bit,” the professor announces.

Bernadetta chokes on a piece of fish. The professor pats her back a couple times and wordlessly hands her a glass of water.

She coughs. “Um! There’s really no need! I can do it myself!”

“It’s alright with me,” Sylvain says. “But only if Bernadetta agrees.”

She risks a glance at him. He looks composed, but doesn’t meet her eyes.

Guilt stabs at her chest, and she blurts out, “I’ll do it.”

The professor follows through on her promise of cake afterward, and sneaks a piece to Bernadetta under the table (“Where Caspar can’t see,” she whispers, and really, that’s all the explanation necessary).

The professor excuses herself shortly after, leaving Bernadetta and Sylvain to finish in silence.

“Well, I should be going too –”

Bernadetta catches Sylvain by the sleeve before he can slip away. “Um.”

Very smooth, Bernie. He’s going to think you’re weird now, not like you haven’t already done a million weird things before, and oh why did she think leaving her room was a good idea –

He smiles charmingly. “Do you need something?”

“Um,” she says again. “Do you want some cake?”

That is not what she meant to say, but it’s too late to take the words back now. Sylvain, for his part, also looks surprised.

“But you love cake,” he says plainly.

“I do,” she says. “But um, you can have some. Just a bite.”

“Just a bite,” he repeats. There’s a bit of that teasing lilt to his tone, like this is a game between the two of them. “What if I want more?”

In all her years of training to be a good daughter who walks perfectly in line and doesn’t disappoint her father, Bernie never learned how to talk to boys. This makes sense, given that her father was overly concerned about her falling into debauchery, but in the end they both failed.

Sylvain takes her silence for discomfort, and carefully removes his sleeve from her fingers. “Hey, you don’t have to. I’ll just be on my way so –”

“Here!”

She shoves a forkful of cake to him, frosting and all. She’s still seated and he’s too tall for her to properly reach, but the gesture is enough.

Sylvain blinks. She’s pouting again, her lip curved in what she hopes is a firm look.

It’s really not, and Sylvain bursts out laughing. “H-hey! Don’t laugh at me!”

“Sorry,” he says, although he doesn’t seem very sorry to her. He wipes at his eye, a pleasant smile taking over his face. “You mean it?”

She nods. “Y-yeah. Hurry up, my arm is hurting.”

“If you insist,” he says, and then his hand is closing over hers, bringing the fork up to his mouth as he bends down. He closes his eyes and chews slowly. Bernadetta feels far too hot even though the sun is almost down.

He releases her, and she quickly puts the fork down.

“It’s good,” he says, licking his lips in what Bernadetta thinks is a highly unnecessary move.

“I’m not giving you any more,” she says, finding her cake very interesting at the moment.

“Next time then,” he says, with a wink for good measure.

He turns to leave, but she pulls herself away from the cake to call out to him again. “Um!”

He waits patiently. “You change your mind?”

“I’m sorry.”

She’s not talking about the cake. He shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“Still,” she tries again.

He shrugs. “It’s just cake.”

The guilt from before settles at the bottom of her stomach. “Will you still read my stories?”

That earns another smile from him, and the heaviness lifts a little. “If you want me to.”

“Next week then?”

He nods, and even though she didn’t say any of it right, maybe he understands.

* * *

Being comfortable around horses is expected of anyone born and raised in a noble house. Bernadetta is no exception, and while she was never a horse girl (that title went to Marianne), she could handle them well enough.

Riding horses takes a lot more core strength than she likes though, and she dreads the extra training that’s coming.

“You don’t have to worry too much about it,” Sylvain says when she mentions it. “I usually skip out every other week anyway. We all turn out okay.”

Bernadetta hopes so, given that she already has a solid amount of absences. Sometimes the world was too much to deal with, classes and training included.

“You’ve ridden before?” He asks.

“When I was young. I might be a little out of practice now.”

He nods, clearly having expected this. “No problem, I’ll get you back up to speed. Here, I’ll show you all the prep work.”

She watches him groom and interact with the horse, then helps him prepare the saddle. She manages to get on without embarrassing herself too much, and Sylvain graciously pretends not to notice how she half-falls on the horse.

Seated atop her horse, it dawns on her that Sylvain doesn’t have one. “Um, how will you...?”

He looks mildly surprised, as if also noticing the situation for the first time. “Ah, don’t worry. We’ll just –”

He settles himself behind her before she can blink. “Go like this,” he finishes, voice impossibly close to her ear now.

Her cheeks are doing that thing where they feel suddenly too warm again, and she hopes he can’t see how they’re also trying to outcompete tomatoes. “S-Sylvain!”

“That’s my name,” he says, all too pleasantly. He settles his hands over hers, which grip the reins a little tighter. “Ready to go?”

“I don’t… know…” Her voice trails off.

A beat passes as she sits frozen, shoulders tense.

He loosens his grip. “Hey, if this is too much, it’s okay. I don’t want to force you.”

Bernadetta feels… something. For all his philandering, she appreciates that he respects her feelings on the matter. With that in mind, she says, “No, actually, I’m okay.”

He gently encourages her to face him. “You sure?”

“Y-yeah,” she says.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he says again.

She laughs. She imagines he’s grinning, and allows him to place his hands atop hers again. She feels a little less like she wants to hide, just for a moment.

Their horse, having patiently sat through the whole thing, sets off at a steady pace on the road leading out of the monastery.

* * *

They break by the river to give the horse time to drink. Bernadetta also needs a break after what was probably the most stressful ride of her life.

Sylvain insisted on holding her hands the entire time, and his front was entirely too close to her back for her to relax at all. He smelled nice again, that same citrus-y scent that made her mind wander.

Daydreaming while going fast enough to feel the wind rushing through her hair was probably not the best choice, but Sylvain carefully steered them away from too many accidents (he apologized to the woman whose bag ended up a casualty that afternoon).

Bernadetta tries to sit away from him to give herself time to gather her thoughts, but Sylvain pointedly moves to sit beside her. She remembers all too well what happened the last time he sat next to her, and flushes from the memory alone.

“You’ve got potential,” he says. “But uh, maybe try to watch where you’re going a little more. You tend to drift to the right.”

“Sorry! Bernie’s just no good,” she says, wringing her hands. To herself she mumbles, “You just mess everything up.”

“Hey now, let’s stop right there,” he says. “I said you have potential right? You just need some polish. And, okay, I’ll admit maybe I should’ve let you ride by yourself, so it’s my fault too, you know?”

“You were pretty distracting,” she admits.

“Exactly,” he says, taking the opportunity to scoot closer. “You were great.”

“Oh, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” she says, nestling her hands into her skirt instead. “I wasn’t great at all. You can just say it.”

“And make you feel worse about yourself? Nah, I don’t think so. I’d much rather see you smile for me.”

She tries to shield her face from him so he can’t see her blush. “M-maybe later.”

“Oh?” He says, and she can hear the grin in his voice. “So there’s a next time, then?”

“Why do you do this?” She asks suddenly, surprising them both.

He blinks. “Do what?”

“Th-that! This! Being so nice to me when I’m just… I’m just…”

She can’t finish her sentence. There’s too many things to say and she’s an expert at self-deprecation.

He doesn’t need to hear all this. It’s not Sylvain’s fault that she’s just an unmarriageable shut-in who doesn’t know the first thing about anything that wouldn’t increase her value to her father and their family’s wealth.

She curls into herself, wanting to disappear straight into the ground. Their horse lowers its head to sip from the river and politely ignores her internal turmoil.

Bernadetta hears Sylvain shift next to her, but she stays decidedly in her ball.

“Bernie?” He calls. “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you, or make you feel like you’re not good enough. Believe me, I know how that feels.”

That gets her attention. “Y-you do?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Feeling like you’re only good for one thing, and when people decide they can’t use you anymore they throw you away. Something like that.”

“I get it,” she says, uncurling just a little. “My father made me feel like that.”

“Your father,” he says. He chuckles, but there’s no warmth in it. “I’ve heard a few things about the guy.”

“I guess word travels even to the Kingdom,” she says. “I’ve heard about your brother too.”

“Miklan was… well, my feelings about him are complicated. But you don’t want to hear about that.”

Cool air rolls off the water toward them and she shivers. She feels fabric touch her hand, and peeks out enough to see Sylvain’s jacket.

“I don’t like talking about my family much either,” she eventually says. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Sylvain exhales. They don’t say much for the next few minutes. The atmosphere is far from light, but Bernadetta learned to prefer uncomfortable silences.

* * *

The sound of lively chatter travels from the dining hall when they make it back to the stables. Bernadetta didn’t have much to say on the way back and found the whole thing had tired her out.

They settle their horse inside for the night and return the equipment in relative silence.

Just as she’s about to leave, Sylvain says, “I got you something.”

Bernadetta laughs a little. “Funny, it sounded like you said you got me something. But that’s ridiculous, right? Why would you get Bernie –”

She stops, seeing that he actually does have something in his hand.

“I want to apologize,” he says. “For… all that stuff. From today and from before. I didn’t mean to make fun of you or remind you of painful memories. I’m not very good at this, and I was hoping to give you this differently, but I was being serious when I said I wanted to see you smile. So, here.”

She takes a small drawstring bag from him. It’s a nice pouch, maybe she could make something like that too, given the right materials. She turns it upside down and out falls –

“A hair clip.”

“I saw it and thought of you,” he says. “It’s cute, right?”

It really is cute, with a gold charm fastened in the center of a deep purple ribbon. “Y-you really think something like this suits me?”

“Of course,” he says easily. “Here, let me.”

He takes the ribbon from her, tucks a bit of hair behind her ear and clips it in place. She reaches up to touch it lightly. “Oh wow,” she murmurs.

Sylvain nods in approval. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Thank you.”

“There’s that smile,” he says, and she finally looks up to meet his eyes.

She’s not ready for this and the way he looks at her. “I have to go!”

“Ah, okay.”

Sylvain is cool about it like he’s used to doing this sort of thing, is used to girls running away. Bernadetta thinks maybe that’s not too far off the mark.

“I’ll see you in class?”

It sounds like a question, one she isn’t sure she can promise an answer to. She nods anyway, then retreats to her room and the safety of being alone.

* * *

Fortunately or unfortunately, Bernadetta does not see Sylvain in class the following Monday. In fact, she doesn’t see him for a long, long time.


	3. Chapter 3

School feels like forever when you’re in the middle of it, and students often wish the years away when in reality the time they were trying to hurry up and get to wasn’t much better.

When the war broke out, Bernadetta thought she would be forced to return home under her father’s rule. She was finally getting used to making her own decisions, with only a touch of guilt thrown in, and was not looking forward to having her newfound freedom yanked away. She hated to think of the marriage meetings her father had arranged in her year away from home, and of course there were the awful dinner parties with stuffy dresses and even stuffier nobles.

As it turned out, Count Varley was in no position to rule over anything, much less his own daughter. They were all under the new emperor’s rule now, and things changed virtually overnight.

Five years pass and everything and nothing changes. The millennium festival they had been looking forward to is the last thing on anyone’s mind these days, but Bernadetta makes her way out to Garreg Mach after getting a very insistent letter from Caspar.

Maybe it’s seeing everyone again that does it. Maybe it’s the nostalgia of being back in the monastery, even in its ruined state.

Maybe it’s because Sylvain still looks like the same boy she shared her stories with, the same boy who would upset her father most if he ever found out, and the same boy who never really left her daydreams.

It only takes a second. A grin and a wave from him.

“Hey, Bernie.”

Her crush comes rushing back in full force.

* * *

Five years can change a lot, and Sylvain is no exception. He’s still effortlessly good looking, but there’s a serious edge to him that she supposes is only to be expected after five years of war.

She thinks she’s grown up a little too. So grown up that she avoids Sylvain like the plague after everyone is settled in at the monastery.

It’s what anyone would do! He doesn’t need to pay attention to Bernie, even if she’s gotten a little taller and her hair is less similar to a rat’s nest these days. He probably has a pretty girlfriend up north and doesn’t need to waste time on a girl from the Empire who still doesn’t leave her room more than necessary.

To Sylvain’s credit, he spent the better part of half a year finding Bernadetta despite her best attempts to avoid contact (there was only so much she could do when they were in the same class). He can count on one hand the places she might be, and starts with the obvious.

He knocks on her door.

“W-who is it?” She jumps at the sound.

“It’s me.”

His voice comes muffled through the door, but she’d recognize him anywhere.

“Me who?”

Stupid, Bernie! That was dumb, even for you!

“I’d love to continue this game, but it’s so tiring carrying this cake. It’s a shame Bernadetta isn’t here to accept it…”

The door swings open and – yes, it’s true, he really does have cake. It’s a fluffy looking strawberry topped delicacy, with white frosting flowers lining the edges.

She frowns at him. “Cruel of you, bribing me with cake.”

He grins and the years fade away. “Yes, yes, I’m the worst. Now do you want it or not?”

She reaches for it, but he holds it up higher. She huffs. “I will go right back in my room!”

It’s an empty threat and they both know it. The lure of cake is too strong. Sylvain has a smug look on his face that should not make her heart beat faster.

“If you want it, join me for tea?”

She hesitates. He notices.

“I’ve already got your favorite blend ready,” he sings.

He wears an easy smile, one that stirs memories of before the world ended.

“You know what tea I like?” She asks warily.

“Mhm,” he says. “Albinean Berry Blend, right?”

She eyes him suspiciously. He holds up his free hand in defense.

“I just observe things, that’s all. Come on, it’ll get cold.”

Her resolve crumbles.

* * *

True to his word, Sylvain had indeed prepared Albinean Berry Blend. Wisps of steam waft out of hand-painted lavender decorated tea cups. An assortment of baked goods are piled high in a tiered basket, enough to make Bernadetta’s mouth water.

Sylvain pushes in her chair and sets the cake down in front of her. She barely waits for him to seat himself on the opposite side before digging in, savoring the sweetness of the frosting and the strawberries on top.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” she says in between bites of cake.

He chuckles humorlessly. “Glad I’m alive, you mean,” he says. “I’d say the same about you. I worried it’d be too much to hope for that we’d all make it back here, but sometimes fate has a way of working things out.”

They exchange pleasantries and small talk about the weather, the reconstruction effort, everything of little importance. Bernadetta slips into her practiced lines as if her partner was anyone else other than Sylvain.

Until he deviates from the script.

He starts off casually. “You still have the hair clip I gave you.”

Bernadetta nearly chokes on her tea. “Oh, this?” She reaches up to touch it out of habit. “Y-yeah, it’s really nice! It’s my favorite, I wear it all the time, oh I’m rambling aren’t I –”

“It still looks like new,” he says.

And it’s true. She replaced the ribbon when it started wearing thin on the ends, and polished the centerpiece every couple years. It’s the only thing she’s ever gotten from a boy, so of course she took care of it.

“I made some repairs here and there, nothing major,” she explains. “It’s pretty easy as long as you have the right materials.”

He nods in appreciation. “That’s amazing! I’m surprised you kept it all this time.”

“You gave it to me,” she says a little defensively. “Of course I kept it.”

He laughs. “Guess I’m not used to that.” He takes a sip of tea and leans back. “Most girls don’t keep the things I give them after so long.”

“O-oh,” she says.

She knows that’s what he’s like, but it still hurts. He probably gave a hundred other girls hair clips just like hers. She’s not special.

Sylvain seems to realize he put his foot in his mouth, and tries to recover. “You’re not like those other girls.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” she says, shoving more cake in her mouth. A heavy feeling settles itself in her chest, weighing her down unpleasantly.

He seems at a loss. “I promised Felix I’d train with him later, so I should probably head down there now. You know how he gets about training.”

She wants to be alone, but she also wants him to stay. Bernadetta wishes her mind would figure out what it wants so she didn’t have to agonize so much.

“Right. You should,” she says.

“Right,” he repeats. Why do they always get stuck like this?

“Um!”

“Yeah?” He says, and he sounds hopeful. Her chest untightens a little.

“I never gave you the next chapter of my story,” she says. “I know it’s been a while and you probably don’t even remember reading it, but I finished it up a while ago. I couldn’t get the ending right without you, so…”

“I’d love to read it,” he says, eyes bright again. “I’ll drop by later to pick it up?”

“I’ll probably just be in my room,” she says. “You don’t have to come by if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he insists.

He kisses her cheek, and Bernadetta nearly faints on the lawn.

“It’s a date,” he says with a wink.

She stays there long after the tea has gone cold. She can’t stop thinking about how he still has that citrus-y scent.

* * *

Bernadetta has only had one boy in her room before. It’s still unusual that the boy was Sylvain.

Even more unusual that he’s had repeat visits since the first time, and is back again. Sylvain is settled on the floor, back against her bed with one leg propped up and a small pile of papers next to him. It’s a sight she didn’t expect to see again, but she’s glad he’s here.

She leans against the wall, seated on her bed with her latest craft project in her lap. She’s crocheting a new friend for the bear she got from the professor and has already finished half of the body. It’s easy to let her hands complete the repetitive motions, and let her mind be free to wander.

Her eyes wander too, sneaking peeks (and long stares) at Sylvain as he thumbs through the pages of her story.

“I missed this,” he says.

She missed this too. Missed him.

“Sorry you had to wait so long,” she says.

“Nah,” he says. He tips his head back and smiles at her. “Was worth the wait.”

“That’s not fair,” she says, hiding her face behind a pillow.

He just chuckles. “You’re still so cute, Bernie. I’m glad we got to meet up like this again.”

She’s glad he can’t see her blush. “Me too,” she whispers.

“What’s that?” He teases. “Could you say it again for me?”

“Stop,” she says with a pout.

She throws the pillow at him lightly. It bounces harmlessly off his shoulder, and he picks it up to prop it behind his back.

“Joking aside, it’s nice to see you’ve still had time for your hobbies,” he says. “We all could use a distraction these days.”

“I guess so,” she says, turning her attention back to her project. She works the yarn by habit, glancing up at him every so often. “Sometimes I think I’m too distracted though. That it’s been a luxury for me to be on the sidelines this whole time.”

“Maybe,” he agrees. “But I don’t blame you for staying out of it. I know we fought together back in our school days, but the kinds of battles going on now are so much harder. It’s not just bandits anymore. It’s former allies, former friends. People you knew.”

Her hands are tight, gripping the yarn. Sylvain shoulders are similarly tense, but he’s careful not to crinkle the pages on his lap.

“Sorry,” he manages. “Stupid of me to bring that up. Let’s talk about something else.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says. “It’s not easy. And sometimes you need to talk about it, right?”

“Nah, I shouldn’t have brought the mood down,” he says with a shake of his head. His smile looks forced, even for him. “We’re here to have a good time, so none of that sad talk.”

“Sylvain,” she tries.

“Really, I’m sorry,” he says, turning away. “Let’s just move on.”

It’s easier not to talk about it. They’re both too good at hiding, or maybe that’s just what they learned. They can smooth things over and go back to talking and laughing and pretending like everything’s okay.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, her voice cutting through the silence.

Sylvain nods, eyes on the page but fixed on a single spot. “I know.”

“Maybe we need to forgive ourselves,” she says.

He lets out a long sigh. She wonders if she said too much, until he says, “I’m glad you’re here, Bernie. And I hope we both get to stay here, like this.”

It doesn’t get better in one day. She knows that. But she also knows it’s worth it to keep trying. The new smile on Sylvain’s face reminds her of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two give me enough material to go for days, I was surprised when I was looking back over it that there's hardly any other characters in the story aside from those mentioned in casual passing. Only one chapter left, I hope you've enjoyed the journey!


	4. Chapter 4

They pick back up where they left off, sorta. Bernadetta doesn’t write nearly as much as she used to, but Sylvain finds reasons to run into her on the regular anyway.

She wishes she could stop being so obvious about staring at him. She’s older and more mature and doesn’t hide in her room all day anymore, surely she can move on from a five-year crush?

Bernadetta thinks it’s cruel of him to lead her on like this when she knows they would never actually be a thing. He likely goes on a hundred other dates with girls far prettier and more interesting than she is.

It still bothers her, what he said at the tea party. The image of a beautiful faceless girlfriend appears in her mind again unprompted.

They can’t ever be anything. His parents will likely arrange a marriage for him after the war’s over if they haven’t already. He’ll settle down and have Crested children, and she’ll never see him again.

Of course, she’d never say that. Best to keep those feelings buried nice and deep where she won’t have to deal with them.

Until she slips up eventually.

“Felix seems to be in a good mood these days,” Sylvain is saying as he walks her back to her room one night. “It’s nice, but also a little scary. Honestly, I almost prefer when he’s grumpy, at least I know what to expect. Maybe I should take this opportunity to set him up with someone, get him to mellow out a little.”

Maybe it’s the summer heat getting to her. Maybe it’s just the old issues and self-doubt resurfacing again. Whatever the case, it’s likely the reason for what she says next.

“Must be nice to know so many girls that you can introduce someone to Felix. You probably shouldn’t waste your time with me like this.”

He stops. “Hey, hey, where’s this coming from? Are you okay, Bernie?”

The words sting as soon as she’s said them, but now that she’s started she can’t stop. “I know you’re just taking pity on me. It’s fine, I get it.”

“Bernadetta,” he says, sounding hurt. “That’s not what this is.”

“You probably have a date with another girl,” she continues. Her hands are bunched in the end of her dress. That tightening feeling is back, hanging heavy in her heart.

“I don’t,” he says. “I’m with you right now, and that’s all that matters to me. And I guess I thought the way we keep meeting like this, well…”

He looks at her significantly. She blinks once before the meaning of his words suddenly crashes into her.

She points at him. “You don’t mean!”

He nods. “Uh huh.”

Gestures between the two of them. “That we’ve been?”

Another nod. “Mhm.”

“You and… me?”

“Yeah.”

“We never talked about it,” she says, reeling from the fact that she might have secretly been dating Sylvain and didn’t even know it.

“I guess we didn’t,” he admits. He folds his arms behind his head. “I’m not real good at this sort of thing.”

“But you date girls all the time! Shouldn’t you know better?” She covers her mouth suddenly, squeaking in embarrassment. “Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that…”

He winces. “Ouch. You’re right, of course. But like, if I knew what I was doing I probably wouldn’t have to date so many people. They don’t stay, and neither do I. Leave them before they leave you, right?”

He says it bitterly, a shadow passing over his face that she recognizes.

They both have issues to work through. They’d be terrible together. He’s just a fantasy, someone she thinks about sometimes, but it’s not like she really imagined a future with him. It can’t happen. Not with her.

There’s no way this will last because someday the war will be over and she’ll return to settle her family’s affairs and so will Sylvain and he’ll marry another girl and then they’ll never see each other again.

She knows this. Those are all the reasons they won’t work out. Not because she’s insecure and timid and scared and not the kind of girl Sylvain would ever go for.

“I’m not… whatever you’re looking for,” she says instead.

He looks at her calmly, questioning. “How do you know?”

She clenches her fists. “B-because I’m just! I’m just!”

Just what? She can take her pick from a million words. Stupid, worthless, unmarriageable, good-for-nothing, but most of all –

Her hands go slack, she drops her head. “I’m just… Bernie…”

“I like Bernie.”

She stares. He waits. All her reasons evaporate into the night and he stands there looking like the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen.

Imagining something and experiencing it are two very different things, as Bernadetta knows from her years of daydreaming at inappropriate times and writing fantasies of characters whose lives were more interesting than her own.

There was a time she dreamed about Sylvain saying exactly those words to her, and they’d skip right to the good part where things would magically work themselves out and she’d never have to worry what her father would say ever again. That was where the dreams ended though, because what comes next?

She doesn’t know the first thing about confessing or being confessed to.

“You like Bernie?” She finally whispers. “But why?”

“Because you’re cute,” he says simply. “You’re cute when you talk to yourself, and you’re cute when you eat cake. I like reading your stories, and I like when you get shy because of me, and…”

He breathes out, rakes a hand through his hair. He looks pointedly at the bushes along the wall. She thinks she sees the hint of a blush on his face.

“I just… like you. It kinda happened before I knew it.”

Bernadetta is used to being scolded, berated, made to feel like less than nothing. When her father wasn’t there to do it, she took over. Hearing Sylvain sing her praises is new, different, and wonderful.

“Oh,” she says eloquently.

“Yeah,” he says. He shakes his head, hand back in his hair. “This is not how I thought the night was gonna go down.”

Now he’s definitely blushing, and she can see why he likes teasing her so much. He looks positively adorable with the tips of his ears turning red.

“I’ve been going about this all the wrong way,” he tries again. “I didn’t want it to seem like I was playing around with you, but I guess I can’t blame you for thinking I was. You never expected anything from me and I liked that… so much.”

“Oh,” she says again.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “I’ve already made you uncomfortable enough. I’ll head out now.”

In between all the serious talk, they reached her room. Sylvain is about to leave when her legs start working again and she’s gripping him by the collar and –

She’s kissing him.

It’s her first kiss. Bernadetta’s never kissed anyone before but it feels good, like everything the stories promised it would be. She’s written a few kisses in her own stories too, has penned the perfect scene more than once, but this… this is new and different and so much warmer than she realized.

Sylvain is quick on the uptake. His hand naturally falls to the small of her back and then he’s meeting her eagerly. She’s surrounded by the scent of citrus and her hands are in his hair and it’s soft like she remembers and _oh_ he’s using _tongue_ –

Bernadetta gasps away, eyes flying open because she just kissed _Sylvain_. Handsome, dashing, out of her league, good looking Sylvain.

“Um!”

Reality slams into her in the form of gravity as her legs try to pull her to the ground, but Sylvain keeps her upright. She’s not sure if she’s grateful or not because his face is still so close.

“Wow,” he says, looking a little breathless himself.

“Uh!”

For someone who once wrote over ten pages in a single afternoon, Bernadetta finds herself struggling to string words together.

“So,” Sylvain says, also looking like his vocabulary suddenly narrowed. “Was that uh, was that your first kiss?”

“Could you tell?” She asks, hands on her cheeks. “You could, couldn’t you? You must’ve been a bad kisser, Bernie, that’s why, of course he doesn’t want to kiss you again…”

“You weren’t bad at all,” he says. He runs his hands down her arms and she shivers. His eyes similarly travel down to her lips, before making their way back up. “And I do want to kiss you again… if you’d like.”

She freezes. Stares at him some more. Waits to pass out on her doorstep. Sylvain’s arms turn out to be excellent handles on reality and she grips them like her life depends on it. Her mouth dropped open at some point, and she hasn’t managed to close it yet.

“But we should probably talk first,” he says.

She nods. “Right, we should.”

He shrugs. “Seems important.”

To the surprise of both of them, she leans in first.

Their second kiss is very much like the first, except this time it’s a little faster, a little more urgent. Sylvain does an excellent job of keeping her from falling by lifting her up somewhere between the third and fourth kiss. She lets out a little yelp, but he quickly recaptures her lips and all thoughts go out the window. She’s too occupied to notice when he moves them to the floor of her room and settles her on his lap.

His shoulders are stable beneath her hands. The kisses turn slow, and he lets her explore him at her own pace.

Bernadetta didn’t expect kissing to be so addictive, that she could get so lost in the feel of another person this way, but of course it’s Sylvain that ends up her teacher yet again.

The world slowly fades back into focus as they part. He’s the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen, now kissed. He looks at her like maybe she’s beautiful too.

They still have a lot to talk about. She doesn’t know the first thing about relationships, or whatever this thing she and Sylvain have is.

But she knows that she likes it, wants it to continue, wants to find out like she did all those years ago when she almost kissed him in the courtyard. She’s scared of the things he makes her feel, but she’s also excited and alive and finally, finally she starts to understand what the stories were talking about.

He looks at her like she’s beautiful and she starts to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh the kiss scene was supposed to end after the first one but they wanted to keep going lol.  
> As always, thank you for reading!


End file.
